The Best-Laid Plans
by Lil black dog
Summary: The liquid scorched its way down, laying a fleeting truce with the pain, the suffering, and the memories that had caused them, providing the brief illusion of relief from the towering regret that teetered invisibly on his shoulders.


**A/N:** This was inspired by the free write 'Drinking to Forget,' which was to begin with the first paragraph below. I had a hard time deciding whether or not to include this as a chapter of 'Moments' or 'Childhood's End,' but ultimately decided, given the length, it would stand best on its own.

**The Best-Laid Plans**

The liquid scorched its way down, laying a fleeting truce with the pain, the suffering, and the memories that had caused them, providing the brief illusion of relief from the towering regret that teetered invisibly on his shoulders.

In some ways that was a good thing; it let him know he was still alive. Still alive, maybe, but certainly not living. His body felt as if it had been turned inside out, every nerve screaming in protest at the perceived unnatural onslaught. At this moment, life—truly living—was something he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to achieve again.

He took another healthy swig from the Mason jar, tears trickling down his cheeks in earnest now due to both the burn of the strong alcohol and the memory of his recent confrontation with his ex-wife.

He was back to moonshine, the painkiller of choice from his high school days. Somehow he felt he didn't deserve a smooth Kentucky bourbon tonight. Didn't feel he deserved anything that would give him pleasure, in fact, now or ever again.

_My fault._

And yet, it wasn't having the desired effect. It might be numbing his body, but it couldn't even begin to tackle the intense feeling of immeasurable loss. He'd dealt with the indiscriminate injustices fate saw fit to fling into his path on a regular basis for most of his life—the deaths of Forrest and Mister Tatum, his grandfather and Jackson, come to grips with a father who had remained on the periphery for most of his young life, the gut-wrenching, life-altering upheaval that was his divorce—but he never imagined anything could surpass those deep-rooted emotional scars.

He'd been dead wrong.

He drew a shuddering breath before raising the jar to his lips again. It felt like molten lead flowing down his throat, but that physical pain paled in comparison to the gaping, bleeding hole that had been ripped in his heart, the dark, fetid blemish on his soul that would never heal completely.

The last three years had been difficult; he still hadn't gotten used to the fact that she wasn't there when he got home. He wasn't able to tuck her into bed at night, or steal into her room after a particularly long day and drink in the sweetness that was his only child in the quietude of sleep. He only witnessed that amazing smile, or simply basked in the glow of that unique, tumultuous personality on a limited basis, but at least it was something.

When shortly after Joanna's fifth birthday Joss had announced with complete and utter indifference that she was leaving him, he'd begged her to stay close by and not take his daughter from him, too. He was certain he wouldn't be able to survive that. All his best-laid plans for the future were crumbling to dust at his feet, being carried away by the winds of inattentiveness, and the onus for that was squarely on him. He'd taken the blame for their failed marriage, for not being able to successfully balance career and home life, and for neglecting, rather than nurturing, his relationship with Jocelyn, but he loved Joanna, and she loved him, he'd argued. Where was the logic in denying each of them that special bond that connected a father to his daughter, and she to him? At first, Jocelyn had acquiesced, and while the situation was far from ideal, he was at least able to keep that relationship in his grasp, no matter how tenuous the hold.

Come tomorrow, that would all end.

She'd be gone from his life for good, traveling off-world to live on Cerberus with her mom and stepdad, and he'd rarely, if ever, have the chance for one-on-one time with her again.

Another long pull did little to extinguish the dark thoughts plaguing him. He'd miss all of it—her first crush, her first kiss, her first broken heart, her first dance, her graduation—the list went on and on. She was still so young. Reassurances that he loved her more than life itself would not diminish the feeling that he was deserting her, would not make her understand that this was not his choice, and were it in his power to do so he would prevent this at all costs.

He knew with unwavering certainty that at some point she'd come to resent him, and that revelation left him feeling empty, blasted, suddenly old.

He drained the jar, his head dropping to the table before him. He closed his eyes, but the darkness offered no peace, no respite from his all-consuming grief. He saw again his last, heated exchange with Joss:

"What would you have me do, Leonard? Nick is my husband now. He'd be a fool not to take this job on Cerberus, and there's no way I wouldn't go with him."

"But Joanna doesn't have to go. You could leave her here with me."

"Really? And how would that work, with you being at the hospital all the time, sometimes for days on end? I know you could afford to hire help—a nanny or something—but what am I supposed to do—let a complete stranger raise my daughter?

"When we were dating all you ever did was complain that you never saw your father. That it seemed to you he valued his career more than his only son, or his wife. Is that what you want for Joanna? Do you want to go down that same path with her? You certainly did with me. Do you want her to be the next one to suffer from your personal failings? For all your talk of not wanting to be like your father, you sure have managed to follow closely in his footsteps." Anger flashed in her eyes and she opened her mouth to speak again but thought better of it, turning and walking away from him instead. After a moment she pivoted to face him.

"At least you had your mother," Joss noted, her voice quiet, tinged with regret. "She'll have no one. What kind of a life will that be for her? Think, Leonard. If you really love her you'll let her go. It's the best thing for her and you know it."

He'd had no argument for that. No quick rejoinder or alternative to the scenario Joss had lain on the altar of truth. The pain had started in that moment—a searing, white-hot knot that exploded in his chest and spread quickly throughout his body. He'd turned and stalked out of the room, unwilling to admit to Joss that she was right, or to let her see him vulnerable and hurting.

Joanna and Nick were in the other room and she'd run to him when he entered, leaping into his arms. "Oh Daddy, isn't it wonderful?"

"What, Dandy Lion?" he'd asked her, his voice shaking with emotion as he'd hugged her tightly to him, pressing his lips to the top of her head.

"We're all going to Cerberus—you, me, Momma and Nick."

He felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. How could he possibly make her understand without hurting her in the process? "No, baby. Only you, your mom and Nick are going."

She pushed herself away from him, her eyes suddenly bright with tears. Thankfully Nick slipped from the room, affording them a modicum of privacy. "But why, Daddy? Don't you love us?" Her chin quivered uncontrollably.

"More than anything," he assured her, tears welling up in his own eyes, "but I can't come with you."

"Why not? I'm sure they have a hospital there where you could work," she insisted with child-like conviction.

"I'm sure they do, too but it's not that simple, honey. You, your mom and Nick are a family now." There was no calculating what that admission had cost him.

"He's Momma's husband, but you're my daddy," she countered, fat tears now rolling down her cheeks.

"And nothing will ever change that, I swear," he reiterated, hugging her close once again. He stroked her hair as the sobs burst forth from her throat, her tears soaking his shoulder. "It's not like we'll never see each other. I'll come visit you, and you can visit me whenever you like," he whispered into the back of her neck.

She drew her head off his shoulder, her eyes locking with his. "Promise?" she asked earnestly, trustingly.

"Promise," he said, knowing full well it was one he wouldn't be able to keep, but at that moment he would have said or done anything to erase the look of sorrow, of abandonment, from her eyes.

She let out a sigh of relief, wrapping her arms around his neck once again.

Joss chose that moment to come bustling into the room. It was long past time for Joanna to be in bed. They needed to get an early start in the morning, she'd said, reaching for the child in his arms. He threw a glare laced with venom at his daughter's mother, carrying Joanna to her room himself and tucking her into bed, fully aware that this might be the last time he'd ever have the chance to do so.

The trip home had been a blur, the pain of his loss nearly blinding him at times. Seeing his daughter off tomorrow would only upset her unnecessarily he'd realized, and so he'd stay away, hard as that would be for him.

"I love you, Dandy Lion," he murmured into the darkness before oblivion finally took him.

FINIS

A/N: This is part of Leonard McCoy's back story. For those who are interested, I've written several stories in this arc. They should be read in the following order:

Childhood's End  
The Road Less Traveled  
The Best-Laid Plans  
Aftermath


End file.
